


He Loves You

by JessicaPlease



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaPlease/pseuds/JessicaPlease
Summary: Dean Winchester. You’re not going to shoot me. You aren’t going to pull that trigger because right now you’re looking into the eyes of God and you’re thinking about all the good he gave to you. You’re looking at him and- as you always seem to be doing- are thinking about “what if”s  and “If He/She didn’t”’s. Just like millions of humans around the world are. You’re thankful. You’re sad and angry and grieving, Dean, but you’re thankful.orIn the perspective of Chuck, Dean's got the equalizer #2 to his head, Sam cries, and Castiel is watching him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	He Loves You

Dean Winchester. You’re not going to shoot me. You aren’t going to pull that trigger because right now you’re looking into the eyes of God and you’re thinking about all the good he gave to you. You’re looking at him and- as you always seem to be doing- are thinking about “what if”s and “If He/She didn’t”’s. Just like millions of humans around the world are. You’re thankful. You’re sad and angry and grieving, Dean, but you’re thankful. 

And you might be telling me, “No, you don’t know shit about anything.” You might be glaring at me with a finger around the trigger. But you’re not going to kill me. For a lot of reasons. Reasons you are trying really hard to pretend you don’t know. You’re not going to put a bullet in my head for the same reason you didn’t kill that kid. Because, as most seem to come to these days, Sam is standing 7-8 feet away from you and looking at his big brother, his hero, and wondering if today’s the day you die and not come back. But. There’s also the matter of Cass. 

Unlike Sam, who’s begging you, pleading you, really to stop. Just put the gun down, Dean. Don’t leave him here, Dean. Don’t make him live without you because of a grudge you don’t even completely understand. There’s Cass. Whose right at you. You don’t even have to glance behind you- you can feel it. His eyes boring into you. Not a word leaving his lips because he is waiting. He’s waiting, Dean. You know he is. You hate that he is. 

You’re hands shaking too much. I can see it. Castiel is standing there and he’s looking at you and his face went stone cold. There’s a frown ached into that troubled face.

Will you leave him? 

You can leave your brother. You don’t know why but your head fills with excuses when you think about your brother living without you. He’ll be happy, that’s what you’ve hypnotized yourself into thinking. But with Cass, it’s different. It’s always been so very different. He’s expecting something and you live up to his expectations. But you’re tired and your arm is getting tired. 

With him, there are no excuses. You wonder can still you. The you that shines through everything or if you somehow messily compressed this beautiful loud badass who could’ve at one point in time, killed you with a wave of his hand, into this mortal, human body. If you poisoned him into being less of himself. Even if he can’t see you like he used to- there are no excuses. No “we’re okay”. No “we’ll live tomorrow”. No stopping each other from doing something they firmly believe in. Not anymore.

You two have become tired. Too tired to grab his sleeve when he turns away. Too tired to think about the “What if”’s. You know, full well, that if you die today, you leave him.

And, wow, a large portion of you wants to leave. Wants it to be over. But he’s looking at you and you know he’s disappointed. He deserves more. You have all this shit you need to work through but instead you want to leave before you even get started. 

You’ve made up too many excuses. All these years. 11, 12? It feels like he’s been beside you since the beginning of time. And all those years you’ve dismissed him. Over and over and over and over and over. When the real moments wash over you and you wonder if it’s okay to lean in and kiss his chapped lips because he’s a picture you want to be apart of. 

You wonder if you could hold his hand and just be for a moment but you can’t do it- if you do it’ll have to end. Everything always ends. He will one day end, you’ve learned. You want to hide at the mere thought of it. 

So many excuses and you’re about to make a life-ending choice and he’s looking at you. He’s waiting for you to turn around to look at him. To love on him. He’s not thinking that he’s losing you. He’s thinking about what stupid thing he’s about to do to make it so you never die. 

He’s ready to jump into hells fire to save you. Just. Look at him. 

But, no, you can’t. Because you’re looking at me. Ready to shoot- me.

And it’s funny. Dean, it’s ironic. Rolling on the floor, cheeks hurting, guts clenching into asshole, hilarious that you can’t even tell him. You can’t die. Or let him die. Or even think about moving on- if you don’t tell him. So you’re stuck, so very fucking stuck. 

You, the righteous man. Survived Hell, Purgatory, and an army of angels, the mark of Cain- maybe even me, God. You, the bravest, brightest, golden-hearted human I’ve ever made. Can’t bring yourself to get the closure you need because you’re scared of the blue eyes and the trenchcoat and the messy brown hair. 

Cass is close now, you can feel him. He’s close and you can’t hear Sam’s cries over his presence. He’s reaching a hand up and it’s about to clasp on you’re shoulder and you’re shaking. Why are you shaking? You want this. Don’t you? You want to kill me. 

But being is vibrating grace and somehow you’ve never felt safer. He’s turning you now. (You’re not meeting his eyes or touching him) Your body is facing him. You say something and you’re not really thinking about it. Equalizer #2 is pointed at him now. You’re going to kill him now? Bold. He’s not even flinching. He’s looking at you while you look at his tie. You fixed that tie this morning. Crack ass of dawn you grabbed him like he was yours to grab and you mumbled something about him being a dumbass while you knotted his tie and smiled as you flattened it against his chest. 

He’s beautiful and tragic and Chaos and you’ve never drunk his blood but you’re addicted. 

Straight face, brown hair, deep voice, a jaw that you’d cut your tongue on, long ugly trenchcoat, blue tie, and the bluest eyes to ever blue. And your stomach drops to your feet and your heart rattles in suspense. He’s saying words and you’re not paying attention. 

You’ve met God himself, made out with his sister, and threatened Death. And here you are in front of this angel whose too hard to read and he’s frowning at you. You aren’t stopping your eyes for roaming and you think if you die right now it’d be absolute torture if you don’t get to tell him. Tell him. Please, say something. Don’t kiss him- just be there. Please tell him. 

But you might’ve just told him you hate him and the guns still pointed at him. 

Reminds me of Romeo and Juliet a little bit. You’re going to wake up and try to drink the poison from his lips? Going to take his angel blade and stab yourself in the stomach and follow him in death because you can’t live without him? Except no. He’s not going to be wherever you go. He might not even die. He’s miserable. He’s not going to smile any time soon. Empty won’t take him. Wouldn’t it be amazing if he lived forever? 

Still no, you don’t want him to live forever. You want to kiss him when you’re old in a hospital bed die with him like in the notebook. 

...and you haven’t opened you’re mouth in the past 6 minutes and Cass looked like he’s a second from just grabbing the just and shoot himself in the forehead. You walk closer and you’re about to tell him to wait for you to come back to him but he grabs the gun from your hand and there’s a prick of pain- maybe you’re right- but he just drops it to the ground kicks it to the side. 

Oh, do you love him. Sam’s ugly sobbing in the corner and I’m behind you near death and there’s Cass staring into your eyes with a “done with your bullshit” look on his face.

And you look away, ashamed and neither of you is saying anything. You can’t even have the decency to say you’re sorry. You can’t touch him or look at him or tell him-

“I love you.” 

You say it and as the words are sliding from your throat you know he knows. His face doesn’t ever change.(You think back to the night you told never to change. Did you love him even then?) He knows you inside out- your weaknesses and strengths and fears. He knows it all. All locked up in him.

“Of course.”

He states. And you don’t know what that means but you also do, don’t you? And then his face contorts into a small smirk before falling and his eyebrow coming together. 

“But maybe we should focus on you’re brother. He may drown in his own bodily fluids.”

Your breath is knocked out of you. You make a joke about him leaving you hanging and he shrugs. 

“You already know what I’m going to say. Why waste breath?" 

You snort and it’s wetter than it should be and then you’re grabbing him- like you did this morning- and you tuck your head in his shoulder. (You can kiss him later)

Me. I’m still on the floor covered in blood and dying. 

You don’t care.

I smile. 

You lean away and kiss his forehead. “Thank you.” He delicately slides a hand around your waist and you can tell.

He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. 

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it??


End file.
